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by Kivrin



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [20]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Domesticity, Found Family, Gen, Not Beta Read, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin/pseuds/Kivrin
Summary: Back at the vicarage during CrowGirl'sHoly, Cold, and Still, Sylvia Maguire is in charge.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/gifts).



Mr. Chambers  _ is _ in bed, for a wonder, though he's sitting up with a notebook on his knees and a pen in his hand ready to spatter ink on the sheets next time he sneezes. He raises bleary eyes when Sylvia and Dickens blunder into the room together. 

"Down, Dickens," he croaks, and the animal sits nearly on Sylvia's feet.  

She regains her balance and glares. "Did you take your temperature?"

He huffs. "I haven't got a temperature."

"You haven't got a thermometer, you mean." She sets the jug of steaming water down on his dresser, then frowns at him for a moment before putting the back of one hand to his forehead.

"Mrs M," he protests, but he doesn't pull away.

"At least you listen to Inspector Keating, if not to your own household." She turns her hand to smooth his unruly hair.  She’d tried yesterday, and Mr. Finch had tried this morning, but he’d only agreed to her putting lemon in his tea and Mr. Finch taking the visits to shut-ins.

He sighs and lets his notebook close on the uncapped pen. "Well, will I live?" He looks very young, despite the stubble on his chin and the circles under his eyes. 

"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live," she retorts

"And is full of misery."  He finishes the quotation with an eyeroll and a laugh that becomes a long, chesty cough.  He tries to swallow it, then muffle it in his fist.  Sylvia steadies his shoulder and puts his notebook aside for him.  Dickens whines as he pads back and forth at the foot of the bed.

"There’d be less misery if you'd go to bed before you're dropping. Though you're not very feverish, I will say that much."  She opens the top drawer of the  dresser.  Unsurprisingly, he has only one clean handkerchief left. She hands it to him.  Dickens whines again.  "Oh, go on," Sylvia says. "I'll have to wash the blankets in any case." 

Dickens leaps up on the bed, making the springs groan, but brightening Mr. Chambers’ face for a moment before he has to bury it in the clean hanky with a thunderous sneeze.  

"Bless you.  Here, hold your head over this, and I'll get a towel to trap the steam." She puts the jug in his lap. "And borrow some more handkerchiefs from Mr. Finch."

“No…”

“I have plenty,” Mr. Finch says breathlessly from the doorway. He has his arms full of the gramophone. “No one ever seems to give me anything else at Christmas. I brought your record player,” he adds unnecessarily. “Let me know what records to fetch.”

“Leonard, you don’t have to…”

“Head down, Mr. Chambers,” Sylvia orders. He’s left his clothes in a heap on the chair; she gathers them up under one arm, then pushes the chair closer to the bed. “Put that thing here, Mr. Finch. Make sure it’s close enough that he won’t get up to change the records.”

She ought to take the laundry down and fetch the towels, but she allows herself a moment hovering in the doorway, watching her boys in this rare private moment of quiet near-obedience.

**Author's Note:**

> Sidney and Mrs Maguire are quoting a line from Job 14, as rendered in the Church of England's burial service.
> 
> Thanks to my dear [Crowgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/profile) for letting me play in the Strength of the Evidence 'verse. :D


End file.
